


Reclaimed

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's on the verge of getting married, and he's scared shitless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reclaimed

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to move all my old fic from Livejournal to here. Some of this stuff is very old, so yeah...

_The child blushed, and looked away from the smirking father._

_“Why do you want to know, Draco?” Lucius inquired with apparent amusement, and his young son looked embarrassed._

_“Just curious, I suppose,” Draco muttered and sneaked a glance at his father who seemed to be enjoying the situation very much. The drawing room’s temperature seemed to suddenly have increased._

_“Are you planning on playing around a lot with them?” Lucius chuckled, and it only made Draco feel even more awkward._

_“No!” the boy snapped while fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I was just curious. I’ve never seen one.”_

_“And if it were up to me, you never would,” Lucius murmured and let his fingers thread into the soft, white blond hair. “Never…”_

_“I know,” the boy replied and couldn’t help but smile at his father’s caress. “But I can’t exactly ask Mother, can I?”_

_Lucius sighed and smiled. “Okay, do you really want to know?”_

_Draco nodded and moved closer and Lucius chuckled at his son’s obvious curiosity._

_“I’ll whisper it to you,” Lucius smirked, and Draco eagerly leaned in close. “They look like something between a very ugly flower and an open flesh wound.”_

_“Eew! Father!”_

Draco had always looked back on that afternoon and grinned, but not today. Today everything was different, and everything would remain different from this day forward.

Today was the day Draco would become a grown man, or at least that was what he was told by most people. Today Draco would learn what it meant to be responsible.

Marriage…

Draco had always dreaded the word, because he knew that one day he would have to deal with it in a very real way. And it couldn’t get more real than this, Draco thought as he adjusted his robes and took a deep breath.

He could peek out through the windows in his old bedroom and down into the garden. It was almost unrecognisable. His mother had really outdone herself this time. Trees, bushes and flowerbeds had been picked and pruned to perfection. In the branches of the two tall birch trees, lamps were hanging, ready to be lit as soon as dusk fell. Out on the lawn a floor of light wooden planks had been laid out to form a path up to a small stage covered in white rose petals. On either side of the path, rows of chairs were put up for the guests to sit on. Half of them were already filled with family, friends and other sycophantic sheep.

It was easy to spot where each family was sitting. On the right, the guests were tall, blond and had an aristocratic flair about them. On the left the guests had a variation of hair colour, and did not seem to have quite as regal an air.  
There were visible snarls and glares exchanged between the two families; both of them apparently thinking the other unworthy of joining their own ranks.

“Flower girls! I need all the flower girls downstairs now!” a shrill woman’s voice shrieked up the stairs, and Draco shuddered as he recognised the voice of his mother. She was more excited about this wedding than his entire family combined

With a surge of sickness, Draco caught a glimpse of an acid-green wearing Rita Skeeter. Of course, she would be here, he thought with great dismay, and his mother would make a scrapbook out of all the articles. This day wouldn’t be as easy to forget as he had hoped, and it made him feel even worse.

“Draco?”

Draco jumped at the sound of the voice behind him. He obviously hadn’t heard the door open, and he turned around trying to appear calm and gathered when he was really scared shitless.

His mother was standing in the door, wearing one of the prettiest dresses Draco had ever seen her in, and he almost smiled.

“Are you ready?” she asked, and it was apparent that she was holding back tears from the way her voice trembled slightly.

“Almost, Mother,” Draco replied, and turned to look out the window again. “Almost.”

Draco would never be ready for this. Never, but he wasn’t about to tell his mother. There was only one person in the world who could ever understand how he felt, and that person was probably the last one he should talk to right now.

“It will be amazing, Draco,” his mother said softly, and put a hand on his shoulder. “The happiest day in your life. And Astoria looks wonderful. Just wait till you see her.”

Draco merely nodded because a big lump in his throat refused to let him speak. Narcissa seemed to take his silence as a sign that he was choking up with emotion, and gave his cheek a swift kiss. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, then turned and headed for the door. “The ceremony begins in 10 minutes, darling.” Then she left him alone.

10 minutes. 600 seconds till his fate was sealed and he would step into the endless line of people who only got married because it was expected of them, people who got married because they had no other choice, people who got married without love. Love…

There was a soft knock on his door, and Draco’s heart seemed to stop dead in his chest. He could always recognise his father’s way of knocking, and he was terrified.

Draco had been avoiding Lucius all day, and Lucius had been avoiding him. Both seemed to know that one word from the other and they would leave together in a heartbeat. And that couldn’t be allowed to happen. This union was necessary to maintain the façade; to produce the heir needed for the family to survive.

Draco knew and hated this, but even so, he allowed Lucius to enter the room.

Lucius looked tired and miserable, not at all like a father whose only son was about to get married to a girl from a good and well-respected family, and Draco couldn’t blame him. They had both been dreading the day forever, and the fact that it was finally upon them seemed almost unreal and absurd.

“Everyone is here,” Lucius began after they had gazed at each other for a moment. “Even your awful Aunt Tatiana from Moscow.”

Draco tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a whiny sob, and he looked away from his father’s face. He heard Lucius clear his throat and speak again. “Draco, this is a very important day in your life,” he said, but it wasn’t hard to tell that it was something he had memorised. It was probably even the same words he had been told when he himself was about to get married. “You’ll continue the family’s name, and live up to the noble task of keep our blood pure and within our own kind. I’m proud of you, my son.”

Those last words sounded like they were forced out of Lucius, and Draco met his eyes once more. They were terrified, probably just as terrified as Draco’s own, and in one second father and son were a mess of robes and desperately grabbing hands.

“You’re mine,” Draco felt his father growl against his cheek just before a feverish kiss was pressed against his lips, and strong hands pushed roughly down the back of his trousers to grab and squeeze his arse cheeks.

“She can never give you what you need. Only I can do that,” his father hissed against Draco’s lips, and Draco moaned his response around a wet tongue relentlessly pushed into his mouth.

…

The night air was cool, and soothed Draco’s heated skin. The garden was big and deserted, the chairs empty, and the rose petals were scattered across the lawn from the nightly breeze that swept through the trees and bushes. Everyone was inside, drinking, dancing, talking and singing-- everyone but two people.

Draco had noticed his father’s absence from the party and had gone looking for him. And now he had found him sitting on the edge of the small stage on which Draco only hours before had said his vows. The white silk ribbons tied to the archway under which Draco and Astoria had been wed swayed lazily in the mild breeze. It looked beautiful and terrible at the same time, and Draco moved closer to sit down next to his father.

“I…” Lucius’ voice was dry, and he didn’t look at Draco, who knew he was hurting. How could he not when Draco himself was hurting so badly?

He searched his drunken brain for the right words, but before he could find any a set of lips was pressed harshly against his own. Draco gasped in surprise, but not even the fact that anyone could walk out in the garden and see them could stop Draco from returning the kiss.

Neither Malfoy spoke a single word as their bodies collided, trembled and rubbed against each other. They didn’t need words to express what they felt, because they both knew the other felt the same. All which could be heard was breathy moans, soft growls and the occasional strangled sob.

Not even the first few drops of rain made them stop. Desperate desire drove them both to forget anything and everything around them, and all that mattered were each other’s lips and hands.

It was the most glorious moment in Draco’s life when his father reclaimed him under that archway in the middle of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this.


End file.
